


Shades of Cool

by Dusty_Forgotten (DustyForgotten)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Mob, Big Gay Mobsters, Cuckolding, Dirty Talk, Exhibitionism, Inspired by Music, Jealousy, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-04
Updated: 2017-12-04
Packaged: 2019-02-10 10:52:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12910395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustyForgotten/pseuds/Dusty_Forgotten
Summary: The redhead finds himself wrapped up in Kylo’s thick arms, lips at the shell of his ear. “Salutatorian to personal cock whore. You’re moving up in the world.”





	Shades of Cool

**Author's Note:**

> [Shades of Cool by Lana Del Rey](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nxpu2l85QRo)
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> [Prompt](https://dustyforgotten.tumblr.com/post/168275683397/au-where-kylo-is-a-mob-boss-and-is-his-hux-partner)

The once-pressed dress shirt drapes from his narrow shoulders, open to the third button that rests neatly on his solar plexus. The cuffs are open, loosely circling his bony hands, and the tails reach just the crook of his thighs, brushing so closely guests may not notice he’s nude underneath. That won’t do.

Hux smooths out imaginary errant hairs, worrying his lower lip with his teeth until it encroaches on swollen, coloured with blood. His nails were manicured the day prior, his hair trimmed days before, and just an hour ago, he ensured no stubble clings to his moisturised skin.

The lights of the vanity wash his pale face in white, but his eyelashes are curled, every flaw dabbed in concealing powder, every erogenous zone misted in ludicrously expensive cologne.

There is very little to occupy him, outside of Owner’s affection, and this is one of his acquired hobbies, since dropping that scholarship for the bad boy his parents never warned him about. Good thing, too: this is way more fun than marketing.

Some midday drama plays in the background of the ground floor, unheard until Hux descends the steps. More interestingly, his soap-opera of a man is monologuing to people who know better than to interrupt. Those rules don’t apply to him, rubbing the outer corner of his eye with one knuckle as he summons, “Kylo, darling?”

“Take his fuckin’— in here, baby.”

Fingertips grip crown moulding as he rounds the doorjamb, blinks at the guests he’s facing, smiling at the back of his boyfriend’s head. “You didn’t say we had company.”

“You were asleep,” he coos over one shoulder, looks him up and down from the armchair that faces away, cocky in the knowledge it’s all his. He uncrosses his legs, but doesn’t correct his posture much at all before offering a knee. No better seat in the house.

“Leave a note or something next time,” he replies, words assertive, but voice soft.

Maybe he spreads his knees a little before crossing them, but Kylo’s too distracted by the way he looks in his shirt. “Would you have put something on if I had?”

“No,” he admits coyly, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and resting cheek to collarbone, where he slept last night, “do you want me to?”

He knows that answer as well as he knows he’s giving every lackey in this room a fucking boner; he’s dating a show-off. They both are. Kylo nips his earlobe in place of a response, and the giggle and shove that would normally lead to a play fight and fuck over the nearest piece of furniture is substituted with a light moan, because hell. He’s got nobody to impress but Kylo, and Kylo’s got a fetish for keeping a little slut all to himself.

Somebody tries to talk business, but he can’t keep focus while his boss is curled up quite neatly around his boyfriend’s middle finger.

Hux squints one eye, smirking against the oral onslaught that’s conquered everything from temple to clavicle on the side closest, underlings talk amongst themselves, but all eyes on him. He plays it up, squirms on the thigh he’s perched on, says, “I just got out of bed and you want me back there.”

The redhead finds himself wrapped up in Kylo’s thick arms, lips at the shell of his ear. “Salutatorian to personal cock whore. You’re moving up in the world.”

Bony elbow jabs solid stomach, and both grin. “I would have been Valedictorian if that stupid overachiever hadn’t taken an elective in Mythology. Myth isn’t a field of study; it’s an excuse to day drink.”

“Speaking of—” Kylo moves to free himself from his boyfriend’s grasp, but a couple fingers to his chest keep him still. The look on his face is to die for, like Hux better get to work if he wants to pretend he’s in charge.

The fingertip traces the crease between his pecs. Hux sits up, says, “… Gin and tonic?”

“Champagne for the viceroy,” one of the underlings confirms, striding out of the room as if ordered. A woman, it’s obvious from the voice, and Hux doesn’t normally make these sorts of assumptions, but that suit is off the men’s rack, and her posture was almost as wide as Kylo’s. He straddles Owner’s lap, back of his hot neck in the crook of his elbow, and narrows his eyes at the woman’s back before she turns the corner and disappears from view. Can’t quite decide if he likes her, or wants her gone.

“Shit,” somebody says, sounding like he really wants to clear his throat but is too afraid to, “I gotta go.”

“Don’t fuck this up,” comes Kylo’s response. Not so much a demand or threat as statement. Expectation. Kylo’s people don’t fuck up. Oh, that dominance is just intoxicating.

The grin that splits his mouth is gone by the time Hux wiggles out of Kylo’s grasp, facing the man that’s excused himself to offer, “I’ll walk you out.”

“It’s fine—”

“Lock the door behind him,” Kylo cuts in, and no one argues.

He’s in nothing save a dress shirt, but his stride would wear a three-piece easily. The man’s obviously not happy to have company— probably planned to beat one out in the bathroom, poor thing. Well, Hux can help with that.

He cuts him off at the door, insists, “Let me get that for you, lover.”

Lip curls up from a chipped tooth. “You’ve got to be fucking with me.”

A flutter of lashes, a little sashay to close the gap, and a whisper against lips, “I’d rather be fucking you.”

It’s funny; after seeing Owner throw Hux around the way he does, the manhandling from this man is sorely disappointing. Is he afraid to break his boss’s toy, rounding him to the wall like that, or is he just that fucking weak? The exhilaration of a little fun on the side wears off almost instantly. There’s nothing but a tongue probing the inside of his mouth, and a hand on either side of his ribcage. Hux wrenches his head away to spit, “Is that the best you can do?”

Oh, of course that was an invitation to to rip the buttons from his blouse. Damn. He liked that one. Even if his flesh is a canvas of broken capillaries under floral-scented foundation, there’s a story behind every bruise. Where his calves hit the drawer handles while Kylo ate him out, the half-circles on his upper arms from massive hands holding him down, an ellipse of blood blooming on the left side of his chest— the spot that’s been marks by teeth and hands and the suction of his mouth that neither of them remember the last time it was healed. Kylo is the blood clot comfortably declawed in one artery, a part of Hux that won’t let him leave alive.

They had a post-coital bath one night, pressed against each other in the water, when Hux wondered, “What would you do if I started seeing other people?”

Washcloth in one hand continued massaging his leg as he admitted, quite unphased, “Been too long since I offed somebody.”

Hux’s teeth release his overfilled lip, some man practicing a pathetic vampire impression at his neck, and he shrieks for Kylo.

“Babe?”

There’s a second, where wide eyes meet baby blues— the man’s head can’t turn fast enough to see the whirlwind of a mobster stomping towards them, a rattle Hux can feel through the walls, in the chatter of his bared teeth, in his thinned blood and fruit-bruises. There’s a rush of air in front of closed eyes when Kylo clocks the man, but he hardly deserved to get saliva in his mouth, much less his eye. The front door swings open and the would-be bull scrambles out, Owner after him, Hux quivering and teeth gritted.

There’s an infandous satisfaction in being fought for, shoulders shuddering as a laugh burbles through. He watches shadows on the long driveway through a sheer front curtain, a head hit concrete, over and over, as his heart thumps.

“Finally,” a voice interrupts, too feminine to be from any of his fantasies, “that man was incompetent.” She hands him a champagne flute, keeps one to herself, a lowball glass waiting in her off hand; Owner’s order. “At least it rains tonight.”

Her lipstick doesn’t smudge the glass she sips from, watching the performance.

“That’s a shame,” Hux muses, “I wanted to go swimming.”

She leaves her drink on a glass tabletop, handing the gin and tonic to Kylo as they pass, he coming in, and she rolling her sleeves as she makes her way to the blubbering body. Another man opens the trunk of one car in the drive, and grabs the legs, while she takes torso. That’s the last of their guests, if his memory serves. Kylo locks the door behind him, glass in one hand, holding Hux’s shoulder with the other. A kiss so soft, it’s ephemeral.

“I don’t know why I get out of bed,” he says, leading the way upstairs.

“Just text me a photo next time,” Kylo offers, knowing neither of them are interested in doing things any differently.

**Author's Note:**

> There was a question here to gauge interest in upcoming AUs, but the climate of the fandom shifted after release of The Last Jedi, and I'll happily go on writing for myself, thank you.


End file.
